


Unconditional Positive Regard

by G0DSPEED



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Pre-Canon, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29453868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/G0DSPEED/pseuds/G0DSPEED
Summary: Distractions can never be a factor in a mission, gig, or side job. It will lead to recklessness, failure, or worse, a tainted reputation. And to Adam Smasher a tainted reputation is not something he could possibly afford.But what if he found something, someone, worth risking that reputation for? What if he learned what it meant to be understood? To be known?
Relationships: Adam Smasher/OC
Comments: 9
Kudos: 16





	1. Referral

**Author's Note:**

> Had this fic floating around in my head for awhile now and it feels good to put it out there!

The evening air had a dankness to it, a sort of wet smell concocted of synthetic chemicals, shit, and sulfur. Such is the nature of the outer fringes of Night City, where all waste is excreted from its bowels and into the air of its most impoverished. The scent could sting the nostrils and cause others to recoil in disgust, but not the being that navigated through the maze of storage containers with such razor-sharp focus. Whatever his body was processing from the rank stench around him, the information dissipated into white noise. 

Distractions can never be a factor in a mission, gig, or side job. It will lead to recklessness, failure, or worse, a tainted reputation.

And to Adam Smasher a tainted reputation is not something he could possibly afford.

Despite his heavy frame, he traversed the area like a shadow. Cybernetic eyes constantly scanned the dark environment, making note of every heat signature and change in moisture levels. His optic implants were the sole giveaway of his presence as they lit the way to his objective in their red glow. He prowled towards a mass of fiery hues in the back corner of the yard, a new sense of cautiousness stirring his mind. 

The yard was quiet. Wasn’t surprising considering how far out the area was from the crowded, rowdy streets of the metropolis’s entertainment districts.

There.

Loud cackles of laughter broke the tension, a chorus of rasped, mechanical voices.

Adam sneered immediately. 

Their brash voices along with the crude application of their cyberware made it easy for Adam to identify who exactly he was messing with that night.

Maelstrom. 

Not that Adam ever utilized much of a moral compass himself. Like any other hired gun in Night City the merc followed the glory and the eddies with reckless abandon. Getting his hands dirty for the promise of good payment? Same shit, different day.

As much as he worked to set himself apart from the herd, he wasn’t blind to unfortunate similarities. A stroke of humility, he guessed.

Still, there were hard limits for Adam. Microscopic, but there. Though he rarely took inventory of them, Adam turned down jobs in the past based on some form of internal code, some ethics that never sprouted to full fruition since his youth. Maelstrom on the other hand, didn’t seem to give a flying fuck.

If he were a weaker man, he’d probably reflect on what those limits of his were.

But of what stock he took in that conscious inventory of his, a stubborn denial of vulnerability was in abundance.

His focus centered on the group by the fire. Three men and one woman. 

Without an ounce of flair, a frag grenade was activated and tossed from his place around the corner. There was only a brief grunt of surprise from one of the men before the grenade detonated, a burst of flames swelling from an explosion that had enough force to rumble the earth below Smasher’s feet.

The mercenary walked through the smoke without fear. Dirt and rock crunched under his heavy steps, bits of flesh and bloodied cyberware mixed in like mulch.

Initial scans came up empty. A small itch of agitation started to irritate Adam as she scoured the area for what he bothered coming to this shit hole for in the first place.

An exhale through the nose. 

Another intake of foul air. Smelt like copper now.

Another scan.

Ah, there it was. 

Scuffed, but intact was a large, black case, the red Arasaka emblem in plain sight. Another scan and it was confirmed that the cyberware past the armored panels was unharmed. 

His mechanical hand gripped the case tightly. As he picked it up from the ground, a broken groan sounded from behind him.

One of the Maelstrom thugs had stirred despite the blood that caked his head and optic implants in thick, dark clots. Part of his calf was missing, leaving behind a smoking, blackened hole that sparked and twitched involuntarily.

Adam watched as a gnarled hand, whatever was left of it, slowly crept across the ground in a pained effort. Tracking his futile path, the merc sighed at spotting a pistol.

With the same amount of flat enthusiasm, Adam approached the dying man. Fear from the sight of Adam’s large body pushed the man to stretch out towards the weapon with a new vigor. It wasn’t enough. Slowly, Adam’s heavy foot stepped down on the man’s hand. With every passing second, Adam allowed more and more of his weight to crush him. High screeches of pain cut through the night air. The man’s fingers snapped under the merc’s weight, splintering through the skin as his knuckles became mush.

Something rewarding filled Adam, a familiar sense of satisfaction at destroying any barrier to his job’s success, to his own success. Music to his ears.

His own fingers reached to grip the man’s pistol. The cries had stopped, replaced with an irritating whimper. After inspecting the weapon briefly, Adam pointed the barrel at the man’s temple. Their eyes locked. He pulled the trigger without a second thought.

Jobs such as the one in the storage yard were not impressive to Adam. Not like they used to be. True, they raked in eddies, maintained his reputation, and put in a good word to Arasaka. Another step in the right direction. But ultimately, Adam craved more. The understanding that there was another rung in the ladder, another step up that hung above him almost teasingly motivated him, drove him to remain in Arasaka’s good standing, but also made these smaller jobs feel mundane. 

Hope, or perhaps intuition, pushed Adam to accept more and more gigs with the major corporate company. In turn, they welcomed his skillset with open arms. He was in good favor with Arasaka to say the least. His cyberwear and mods made him a walking advertisement to the company’s tech ingenuity. Ever since someone from Arasaka saw potential in Adam and essentially saved his life, he owed them, but not in a way that would cause any bitterness. They didn’t hold it over his head. No one dared remind him how close Adam was to death so many decades ago, how the fact that he was still up and around to carry out these small gigs was something short of a miracle.

No, there was a sense of duty. A sense of service. 

A loose leash. One that could only be held respectfully by the highest level of the executive board or the Arasaka family itself. They knew to hold it right, hold it in a way that didn’t shift that steady servitude to rebellion.

Any tighter and he’d give ‘em the middle finger, founding family be damned.

This isn’t all to say that he’s happy. An existential crisis, perhaps? A crossroads. He valued his freedom as well as the power to say ‘No’ far too much to allow a corporation to have a leash around his neck, yet here he was. The hypocrisy stung on some days. Oh, he was aware. Adam didn’t oppose heavily modifying his body with the best combat and weapons tech eddies could buy. His limbs were implants, as well as his eyes and parts of his skull and spine. However, at this point Adam was made up of more cyborg than human, and the corporation was still pushing for more modifications, more upgrades. With their direction, he made for a powerful ally and an intimidating enemy. Arasaka was utilizing his hunger for power to their advantage, something that Adam was aware of and allowed. What haunted him most was the knowledge that if his younger self, the version of him that started out poor and desperate in New York, if that kid saw who he had become, who he served and got his eddies from, that Adam, that young and confident kid would be absolutely disgusted. A sellout. A corpo slave. It was easier to ignore on most days, especially after a job well done that was full of action and dominance over NC’s most brutal whose reputation countered his own. The night he took down the likes of Johnny Silverhand? A chef’s kiss to his success. 

Yet, the self-loathing was there. It came when he arrived home when the door closed, and he found himself alone. 

It settled in like a parasite, eating him from the inside out.

Whatever that feeling was, the one full of drive and promise, it brightened when he debriefed with one of the Arasaka executive assistants a few days after the yard gig was closed. Adam stood squarely in a polished conference room at Arasaka’s Night City headquarters, his frame towering over a finely-dressed man on a floor that was likely cleaned every day, his own reflection glaring back at him.

“Your continued service is much appreciated by Arasaka and its associates,” the man read from a tablet in his hands. Manicured hands. Smooth to the touch, they looked. Probably didn’t do a day of hard labor in his life, thought Adam.

Adam’s focus shifted back to the face of the messenger. A light sheen of sweat was forming.

“Our s-satisfaction,” continued the assistant, “Leads us to consider future opportunities. We have a task of great importance to the Arasaka family and the company.”

At that, Adam’s curiosity piqued. Strange. Normally these messages were short and to the point. This message seemed more formal, more alluding.

“While we are and will be considered your client for the entirety of this transaction, including the provision of any and all financial compensation for your time and services, another party is responsible with insuring that your efforts are specific to our request and uphold our standards.”

His mood soured instantly.

There it was.

The other shoe.

“Why the hell would ‘another party’ be necessary?” he questioned.

The man flinched.

“Um,” he mumbled. “W-What I know, Mr. Smasher, sir, is, um, that the third party is being contracted by Arasaka’s research department, specifically, and um, Mr. Yorinobu Arasaka thought it best that they themselves explain the nature of their contract and expectations, sir.”

Adam glowered down at the sweaty messenger before stalking towards a nearby window. As he gazed out towards the city, his mind wondered at all that he heard. 

“Is Yorinobu Arasaka coming to Night City?” he called out to the man.

“No, sir.”

“Then why is he interested in a third party here? Why not one in Japan?”

“I-I’m not privy to that answer, sir.”

Adam scowled. 

Yorinobu Arasaka wasn’t someone who ever contacted or had anything to do with Adam’s role in the company. It was all new territory, and frankly it irked Adam to be in the dark, much less rely on someone else, this ‘third party’ as it were, to make sure he was doing his job correctly.

Why the bullshit? 

Why complicate a simple thing?

The rest of the message consisted of the time and place in which Adam was to meet the unwelcomed third party.

“Just send me the damn address,” snarled Adam as he stalked out of the conference room door. 

What the man responded with Adam had no idea. He was already slamming the door shut behind him. The frame rattled.


	2. De-escalation

Adam Smasher is very used to getting his way.

Does he always get his way? 

Majority of the time, yes, and primarily through intimidation. Intimidation was almost like a personality trait to Adam, the line blurring from who he was authentically and the stone-cold bravado he put out for the rest of the world to see. He utilized tried and true premeditated tactics such as calculated threats, blackmail, ransom, disrupting personal space, ignoring the spoken and unspoken rules of modern society, and frankly not giving a shit about what other people thought. Then again, said tactics occurred unconsciously, too. His physical presence alone made for a great argument. The man stands well over six feet tall, perhaps leaning more towards the seven-foot range, with broad shoulders and a deadly gaze to boot. Adam’s copper red eyes could give a look so menacing that other Arasaka operatives submitted to his authority without question.

And he loved this. He truly enjoyed wielding such power, to walk into a room and have an air of dominance over every stranger that stood before him. Made things simple. Never there to make friends, to play nice, to compromise. The only thing he sought out to do in these god-awful meetings that Arasaka forced him to attend was comply with the given, short-term objectives to a tee. Going the extra mile was only an option to Adam if it benefitted him. Or if it made the job easier, but that stopped if it meant kissing any asses that didn’t have a direct link to his eddie account.

Intimidation was effective on mostly everyone that Adam Smasher worked with or unfortunately encountered in his line of work. 

Then there were the others. The ones that didn’t get the message or simply chose to make regrettable decisions. To get in the way. To make Adam’s job harder. Those were the people that required more intention on Adam’s part. 

And Adam was every bit intentional with those who refused to submit.

The city appeared calm on the morning of his meeting. Wellsprings was the destination and Adam arranged the AV so he would arrive onsite early. The ride in the AV was short, but allotted Adam time to observe the Night City skyline as sun beams cut through its shadow like knives, gold and sharp and warming the streets below. Like his hometown, Night City had no concept of sleep, its population below teeming towards their next meal, deal, job in a sort of lively frenzy.

Adam himself felt tired. He still required sleep like any functioning being, experiencing a downtime where his senses and sensors went offline, and his brain, his still very organic brain, unwound and processed all that he experienced that day. Unfortunately for him, his brain didn’t want to unwind the night before, too excited about the job, too curious at what Arasaka needed an outside opinion on, and having too many questions unanswered.

What made this job so special?

Why would Arasaka seek out the opinion of someone in Night City rather than in Japan?

What made this third party so important?

Who were they?

Why them?

Why did their opinion have so much weight?

Most of all Adam wondered why he even bothered to care. The image and reputation that Adam had worked so hard to cultivate this past century should have emboldened him with steel-clad confidence in himself and his abilities. Should have. Why the anxiety? True, Arasaka was being oddly theatrical in their deliverance, but if Adam were honest with himself, he would acknowledge that he allowed a dangerous feeling to creep inside, a feeling that’s lethality pushed him to put his life at risk more than anything else: hope.

“Approaching LZ, sir.”

The flat voice of the AV’s pilot pulled Adam out of his mental reverie. 

Surveying the area, he felt his suspicion rise. The AV was lowering at the top of a multi-leveled parking garage that connected to a moderately large, white building. The glass windows were polarized with a shade of gold, giving no indication as to what occurred behind them. Adam also noticed a lack of sign or company name, save for a white emblem that looked like the image of a lighted torch. Clean and shimmering, the emblem rested on the building’s corner, as if it were a true, living flame.

As the AV pulled away, Adam headed near the large elevator that sat on the opposite side of his landing zone. Gravel crunched beneath him, the annoying sound adding to his already agitated mood. Just as he approached the control panel, the elevator doors opened with a faint hiss.

Out stepped a fit, middle-aged man with dark, neatly combed hair, navy slacks, and a trim, button-up shirt. The man was occupied with rolling up the shirt’s sleeves, revealing a variety of tattoos on each forearm. Adam noticed a large NUSA script standing out amongst the rest. The man’s face illuminated with a white smile when their eyes met.

“Good morning, Mr. Smasher,” he greeted, his voice deep and rich. “I apologize for any waiting that we might have caused you.”

Adam grunted as he sidestepped the man to enter the elevator. He didn’t have to duck his head, an odd experience for him.

The stranger seemed unaffected by Adam’s response, maintaining a polite smile and joining him in the elevator. As the doors closed, he stepped forward and pressed one of the buttons.

“When we arrive to the office, we request that you place all weapons-”

“No.”

A pause.

The man resumed.

“-in our reservoir and deactivate any and all combat cyberware.”

“Out of the question.”

Adam turned to face him. The smile had faded, but much to Adam’s chagrin there was a hint of amusement in the man’s hazel eyes.

“I know that our policy opposes your own,” he stated. “But it is a requirement of this office.”

The elevator slowed.

“Are you the third party in the contract?” Adam asked lowly.

“I am not,” answered the man.

The doors opened as they arrived to their floor.

“Then you are of no use to me,” said Adam. 

Walking into the space, his brows furrowed. He had arrived at an open lobby that was full of soft chairs and with tall windows aligning the walls. There was a gentle scent in the air, something floral that added to the relaxing ambiance of the floor. Some art was on the walls as well, but what distracted Adam was the sight of a single set of large, double doors. 

No one was there other than Adam and the man who continued to speak to him.

“Welcome to Torch. This is our Services floor.”

Again, the man received a cold reply as Adam ignored him and approached the large doors. Giving the doors a firm tug, they didn’t budge from the frame. He tried again, this time with more effort, and became agitated when they failed to give.

“This building prohibits the presence of any and all firearms, as well as combat cyberware,” stated the man, his tone informative and light.

Turning to glower at the man, Adam saw that he was gesturing to a unit in the wall. 

“We have reservoirs on each floor, calibrated with genetic security software to guarantee that only you can have access to them. We do not sell or use any of the collected data. It is strictly for security. Not even our own staff can touch your things without your consent, Mr. Smasher.”

Adam stalked towards the man with heavy, deliberate steps.

“Open the door,” he commanded. 

“I cannot-”

A hard, mechanical hand reached out to grip the man’s throat.

“Open the door,” repeated Adam. The man’s struggling body was lifted from the tiled floor with ease. “Or I will break you,” added the merc in a whisper.

The stranger struggled in his grasp, attempting and failing to loosen Adam’s hold with his own cybernetic fingers. 

“Open the fucking door,” Adam commanded again, his anger growing with each passing moment.

“I-It won’t open,” gasped the man. “Not until I see you put your weapons in the reservoir.”

The lump in his throat bobbed against Adam’s palm. 

“Think I give a damn about your policies and protocol?” he rumbled. “I can just pop off your fucking head clean off your shoulders, then I’ll rip open those doors myself-”

“A-And she still won’t see you.”

Adam blinked in confusion. The man had no fear in his voice. No, the opposite. Bold. Certain. His whole demeanor was solid, his eyes never breaking away from that of the mercenary.

“She won’t see you,” repeated the man. “She’s not one for intimidation. N-Never will be.”

With a new blaze of anger, Adam lifted the man higher. The man gasped heavily as the grip became tighter on his air way, his face reddening into a deep scarlet. 

Behind them, the doors burst open.

“Mr. Smasher!” yelled a voice. A woman’s voice. “Put him down!”

His head turned in the direction of the sound, his anger near the tipping point of rage.

Standing in the doorway was a woman. She stood before a group of other women, all afraid, their eyes wide and trembling fingers touching lips. One of the fearful women looked to be attempting to pull the other back, but with no luck. She stood firm in a white, form-fitting dress, the garment hiding most of her olive skin and hugging her curves beautifully. Her hair was dark and fell in waves at her shoulders and down her back. Oddly enough she was barefoot, revealing a blood red polish on her toes that matched her fingernails. Simple gold jewelry complimented her complexion. 

The woman’s face, though attractive, wore a look of pure admonishment.

“Are you the one hired by Arasaka?” called back the mercenary, his voice still strained.

“Put him down,” repeated the woman. “Now.”

“Answer my question-”

“Not until you put down Dr. Estrada.”

Their eyes locked. Gold like her jewelry, they burned intensely with a heat that Adam could practically feel. His own resolve faltered at her ultimatum, mostly because he wasn’t used to anyone, let alone a woman, making one.

The man’s body dropped loudly to the tile.

To Adam’s surprise, the woman immediately relaxed. Gone was the fire in her eyes and features. Posture eased. She then entered the lobby. The women behind her silently panicked, their mouths agape at seeing her walk past Adam, bare feet padding across the tile, to attend to the fallen man. The man had recovered after a brief coughing fit and was sitting up with a grin. He accepted her offered hand.

“So all of this,” she said calmly, directing the man to the doorway. “Is because of our weapons policy?”

“Are you the one hired by Arasaka?”

His tone was more level, matching hers. The anger was long forgotten.

“I am,” she replied. “Will you be able to make our appointment or should we reschedule?”

Adam frowned at the question.

Without saying a word, he began walking towards the doors. Her frame stiffened. In a stride she stood between Adam and the opening.

“You want to keep our appointment,” she acknowledged. “Please put your weapons in our reservoir and deactivate any and all combat cyberware.”

And like a switch, his fury returned ten-fold.

“I’m not going to go by your bullshit policies!” he yelled. “We’re meeting today! Stop wasting my fucking time and let’s get this shit over with!”

Pulse raced in his body, so strongly that he swore they could hear it. The doctor stood behind the woman, eyes shifting between her and Adam nervously. He saw how the man’s hands tightened into fists, as if ready to intervene at any moment. The other women were frozen in fear.

What did these fucking people not understand?

Adam was here to do a job.

He didn’t have to abide by whatever policies they were giving him.

It wasn’t going to happen.

All appeared terrified and concerned. 

All except for her. 

That woman with the dark hair and powerful, golden eyes remained by her place at the doorway, her focus on Adam and staring directly at him as if he hadn’t just yelled at her. If she was afraid of Adam, she sure didn’t show it.

A moment passed before he got a response.

Her voice was touched with a new softness, her face gentle.

“I hear you,” she said. “You are strongly against what we’re asking of you, Adam, and we’re asking a lot. This is our policy. It is important that our clients feel safe here. If depositing your weapons and turning off your cyberware is not acceptable to you, that’s fine, but it is our expectation. You can do what we ask and retrieve your things when our meeting is over or we can reschedule when you’re ready.”

Dark eyes blinked in confusion. No doubt his anger remained, but at hearing her words, the calmness in her voice, he found it oddly abated. Only slightly, but abated nonetheless.

He swallowed.

“Out of the question,” Adam answered lowly.

As if expecting his response, the woman simply nodded.

“Okay,” she said, that damn smile once more spreading across her full lips. “That’s your choice. The elevator can take you to the floor that Dr. Estrada met you at. Please reach out to our office so we can reschedule.”

Before he could muster up a response, the woman quietly closed the doors.


	3. Processing

Though his body was primarily made up of metal and cyber components, it didn’t mean that Adam was unable to experience pleasure.

One such pleasure that he enjoyed above most was standing below the hot spray of his shower after a long day of merc work. Streams of water ran down his face, chest, stomach, and groin in soothing rivers, the water reddening as it cascaded down his large frame. RealSkin still covered those areas, despite how modified the rest of him became. It was a sort of preference or blessing that Adam have some pleasurable sensation left as Arasaka continued to make annual adjustments to their living investment. Adam allowed his eyes to close, a deep groan ghosting past his lips as he finally relaxed.

The day was eventful. Between catching a bounty that had evaded Adam for weeks, the end results being a half-dozen destroyed food stalls and vehicles in Little China, to tuning up his Wolvers after getting some much-needed upgrades, Adam accomplished most of the things that he set out to do that day. It was tempting to check his HUD for upcoming gigs or missed messages. Tempting, but he resisted. Being in his line of work for so many decades taught Adam to set some firm boundaries between work and play, or in this case, a moment of respite beneath his showerhead.

It was during these quiet moments where he allowed himself to think, to reflect. In this case, to address that which he avoided processing since the morning of his meeting with Torch. Or more specifically, that woman with the golden eyes who openly challenged him upon their first meeting.

The first few hours following his conflict at Torch were some of the strangest for Adam. It was as if he felt unsettled in his own body, like he was wearing some ill-fitting suit. The strangeness came from his mood, that despite having a door being closed in his face, there was an absence of the typical rage that the merc would be feeling had he been dismissed from anyone else. There wasn’t this insatiable need to develop a counter-attack, to make the group’s existence a living hell for denying him. Instead, Adam found himself feeling put-off. Annoyed, but accepting the outcome. The woman provided him choices, accepted his choice, and followed through with what she said. Not much to argue with there. Adam knew it. Still, he questioned his own personhood, and was thankful that no one from Arasaka or any of the other operatives he worked with witnessed how he calmly walked away from the double doors and rode the elevator back to the rooftop for pickup in total silence. 

Asking one of Arasaka’s elite hired guns to surrender his weapons and turn off his cyberware was a ridiculous request. Borderline stupid. They, whoever they were, were clearly ignorant of who Adam was to even ask. Adam marveled at their audacity, at the way the woman smiled at him after politely telling him to fuck off. Thankfully, he was able to distract himself from thinking about her face for the rest of the day, at how her golden eyes burned him with their gaze alone.

Distracted until now.

His body twitched.

Adam’s eyes opened at the involuntary sensation, at how he reacted to remembering the fullness of her lips, at the curves of her hips as she stood so near to him in the lobby.

The scent of her perfume.

The smile.

A deep exhale.

He scoffed and turned the water to its coldest setting.

Absolutely not.

He didn’t even know the bitch’s name.

The very next day Adam set out to remedy that problem.

“Again,” he demanded over the com link to one of Arasaka’s Netrunners.

The Runner complied immediately. The pair was reviewing the footage recorded from Adam’s optics, going frame by frame and gathering intel about those he encountered in the lobby that day.

The frame centered first on the man who had greeted him on the roof, a Dr. Thiago Estrada.

“War veteran,” stated the Runner. “Served a tour as a medic for NUSA, 2021 to 2023. Integrated into Trauma Team until 2065. Been with Torch ever since.”

The grunt that Adam offered in response was indicative of his interest. Initial scans at their meeting on the rooftop told him that much already or at the very least that the man was a veteran. The fact that the doctor was with Trauma Team for so long, while interesting, was not Adam’s primary focus in meeting with the Netrunner. 

Adding to his already teeming confusion about what occurred at Torch was the fact that the woman, the one who dared to challenge his authority after watching her peer practically get strangled by Adam, wasn’t scanned at all. The thought never crossed his mind while he was there. Not once. In reviewing the optic footage, that issue could be resolved no problem, but the fact that Adam was too distracted to even gather intel on such an important target to his reason being there? 

How could he, Adam Smasher, have made such a giant oversight?

Frankly, he was embarrassed. Embarrassed that she had stunned him so much by her words and lack of fear, and it was that humiliation at having to ask someone for help in correcting his mistake that made his drive for answers that much more strained.

Almost teasingly, the Netrunner had forwarded the footage to when she confronted him at the double doors. Even through a screen, Adam could feel the power in her golden stare.

“Who is she?” he growled, eyes remaining on her face.

The seconds it took before he got a reply were infuriating. The response even more so.

“The information is blocked, sir.”

“Run it again.”

“Yes, sir.”

Silence once more. Adam found it difficult to stand still.

“Well?” he snapped.

“I-I’m sorry, sir, but I’m being denied access to any information regarding this person.”

“By who?”

“Um, our own network, sir.”

Confusion furrowed his brow, but Adam didn’t relent.

“Use my clearance code. Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Despite his hope, the Netrunner confirmed that access was still denied. Even after Adam demanded the Runner run checks on all the women that stood terrified behind his target, their files presented no further indication as to who the hell she was. In his pursuit for more knowledge, Adam was left with even more questions.

Why the hell was Arasaka denying him access on a target that they themselves set up for Adam to meet with?

Who the fuck was she that made her so goddamn important?

To question the corp on their decision would reveal that he had yet to reschedule a new meeting with Torch, if they hadn’t learned about how the first meeting went already. Part of him worried that Torch would report what happened to Arasaka, but Adam had yet to receive any reprimanding call or email from them. Not that he had any evidence other than her calm demeanor and fairness, but for some reason Adam doubted the woman would do that. She did put the next step in his control, after all.

“S-Sir? Do you need anything else?”

The Netrunner’s concerned voice brought Adam back to the present moment. 

He ended the call and turned his focus to the white building that stood before him, its glistening emblem still sitting proudly on the top corner of its rooftop.

Time to reschedule, he thought bitterly as he approached the building’s main entrance.


	4. Intake

Towering over her with enough girth to block out the sunlight from the street windows was Adam and his dwindling patience. He could feel the hot coals of his temper start to heat up as the terrified receptionist tried desperately to avoid eye contact. 

It would be simple, he thought. The only thing that separated his frame from her own was a large desk counter. With one hand he could flip it on her, break some bones and crush her skull if she kept stammering as stupidly as she was.

“Um, do you, do you have the extension number-”

So simple.

“If I don’t know her fucking name, then why would I know the extension number?” he snapped.

“R-Right, um. One, one moment, please, Mr. Smasher, sir.”

Red eyes rolled at her incompetence. Been in the building for less than five minutes and his composure was already diminishing. The receptionist worked quickly on the screen in front of her, her blue optics lighting up intermittently. His glare settled on the frozen form of the other receptionist. She, too, deterred her gaze away from his own and busied herself at her side of the counter. 

Pitiful, he thought. 

No spine.

“The, the only thing I can see in our calendar is a note about scheduling a future appointment, sir.”

“I know,” he breathed. “Make me an appointment with Services. Now.”

“Oh, we, um, we don’t typically do walk-in appointments-”

“Today you do.”

Adam’s cold stare ended any argument that the receptionist prepared to make.

She pressed a button on a switch board.

“Hi, I have a Mr. Adam Smasher here for a walk-in appoint-Yes, I know that, but he insists to be seen. Well, can you check? He’s at my desk…”

At the receptionist’s rising panic Adam couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Didn’t take much for that fear to kick in. Just a little physical presence and she was malleable to his whim. 

A moment later, she ended her conversation and looked up at him with a weak smile. 

“They said to wait in their lobby on the Services floor,” she stated.

Without so much as a thank you, Adam turned from the poor woman and headed towards the elevators. He smirked to himself as she exhaled behind him.

Even though the Arasaka Netrunner lacked proper access to the information he sought, Adam wasn’t planning to relent any time soon. For one, the job depended on it. Second, Adam knew that he simply would have to gain intel the more direct way, in an approach that was familiar, easy, and frankly more enjoyable.

Deep, deep, deep in the dark depths of his mind there lied a third reason. A reason that Adam would deny ‘til his dying breath if someone were bold enough to ask. A reason that sounded like curiosity, but actually teetered more so on the line between obsessive and slightly enamored. 

But he would never admit that. 

Not to a single soul.

The elevator doors opened on the Services floor, allowing the soothing fragrance of flowers to fill his senses. The lobby was empty like before, void of any witnesses as Adam stepped out of the elevator and approached the double doors. There was that same sense of determination in him, one that was resolute on getting this meeting over with and finally answering some of those damned questions that kept him up at night.

However, before he could grab the handle, the doors swung open. Out stepped the same doctor from before, Dr. Estrada, greeting him with that million-eddie smile.

Adam grimaced immediately at feeling the man’s positive attitude rolling off him like radiation.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Smasher,” said the doctor warmly. “May I call you Adam?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’m glad you decided to reschedule. Some of us were worried that you wouldn’t.”

Though annoyed, the doctor’s greeting also brought on a wave of confusion. The words as well as the man’s smile seemed oddly sincere. The doctor’s eyes held a friendliness in them with no hint of any fear or resentment from what occurred in the lobby during their first encounter. Another new kind of interaction, a change that was unsettling to the hardened merc. Those who were on the receiving end of Adam’s wrath seldom stuck around for a round two, let alone approached him with such confidence and genuineness that the man before him showed. Never broke eye contact. Never spoke in a small or mumbling voice laced with anxiety. There was a strong reminder of that initial meeting, however, one that the doctor would have a difficult time hiding. Ugly, purple bruises colored his neck in a pattern that matched the length of Adam’s fingers. His head moved stiffly.

“Have you deposited your weapons into our reservoir?” Dr. Estrada asked. When Adam didn’t respond, his hand gestured towards the reservoir unit and he added, “After they’re deposited, please also turn off your combat cyberware.”

A pause.

Adam squared his shoulders.

“And if I refuse to listen to this bullshit request?” Adam grumbled.

The doctor appeared to contemplate, as if truly mulling over Adam’s question.

“If you choose to refuse, that’s fine. We would have to reschedule for a different date.”

Another pause. 

“To be honest,” continued Dr. Estrada, “You could walk in there completely ignoring our request without much issue. Our staff only has defensive cyberware programmed, and not even everyone has the full modifications so there wouldn’t be a lot of resistance. Not really anyone back there has any experience with combat, much less any violence other than that from who we work with, but…”

The man shrugged.

“She still wouldn’t see you,” Dr. Estrada concluded. “She keeps her word, keeps her promises, and when she sets an expectation, she won’t back down. Ever. And that’s just something you’re going to have to get used to, my friend.”

When it became clear that the doctor wasn’t going to offer anything more or elaborate, Adam found himself in disbelief. Again he felt unsettled. The words shocked him in their sincerity and his response, Adam’s own lack of anger or bitterness, was so foreign.

“Who the fuck is she-”

A loud scream cut through Adam’s words, upsetting the peaceful atmosphere of the floor. The doctor’s body stiffened and his hazel eyes lit up as he received new data. 

Before the doctor could explain anything, another shriek ripped through the air, this time drawing out longer and with an even higher pitch. 

Dr. Estrada’s smile vanished as he quickly exited through the double doors.

The whine of scraping metal echoed beyond the doorway, followed by the floor shaking as if something large and heavy was suddenly dropped.

From his place in the lobby, Adam could hear chaos build and build along the chatter of nervous voices that muttered and called out to one another in hushed tones. 

Seeing that it was clear that the doctor wasn’t going to return anytime soon, Adam chose to cross the threshold.

The other side of the doors consisted of a large open space that was attached to several hallways and lined with tall windows. The space itself held many desks with computer screens and office supplies. Adam recognized some of the women from his first visit. Already appearing alarmed by whatever was happening, the sight of Adam Smasher stalking through their office certainly did not alleviate any of their fears. Before he could interrogate them, another scream rang out with enough volume to make him wince. He headed down the closest hall, towards the source of the dreadful noise.

At the hall’s end there was a group of concerned women, Dr. Estrada, and a couple in civilian clothes. The couple was holding hands, both looking more terrified than the others.

All stood by an open door. Their postures were rigid.

Dr. Estrada acknowledged Adam as he approached the scene.

Again, before Adam could ask what the hell was happening, another scream cried out followed by a deep, shaky sob.

It was only then did Adam realize that the pained voice was that of a child.

Dr. Estrada motioned for the merc to come closer, though he pressed a finger to his lips as he did so. Adam complied, his eyes peeking into the open doorway to see what the commotion was about.

The room was destroyed. Absolutely torn apart. Books, papers, and other office supplies littered the floor, along with broken glass, a shattered computer monitor, and a large couch completely flipped over and on its side. One piece of framed art hung crookedly above a large dent in the wall, the metal bent and scuffed.

Small whimpers could be heard with breaks of short sobs in between. It was there amongst the wreckage and debris of the office did Adam see two forms huddled behind the flipped furniture. A small child, a girl, stood hiccupping in a pink, frilly dress. Her shoes were gone, but that wasn’t what made her so striking. All of her limbs were artificial, all new and polished chrome. 

The girl couldn’t have been any more than five years old.

Her modified hands were gripped into tight fists at her side as she stood before the crouched body of the woman. 

Her.

The woman with the golden eyes. 

Adam swallowed at seeing her again. 

How poorly his memory served in recalling their vibrancy.

Dressed casually in a pair of dark jeans and a graphic t-shirt, the woman spoke calmly to the child. 

“You’re very sad that our time is over,” she said. “I see your tears.”

Once more, the girl cried out. Adam winced at the painful noise, but his attention never turned from the woman’s face. The woman did not react at all.

“I hear you,” she stated. “You don’t want to leave, but it is time to go home-”

“No!” yelled the girl. “I-I don’t wanna go home-”

“I know. I hear you, but our special time is over for today. I will see you next week-”

“No!”

The girl’s metal hands then reached out and grabbed the woman’s face. Those in the hallway gasped.

But Adam, without a second thought, stepped forward and completely entered the room.

Both the woman and the child quickly looked up and stared at the large merc as he stood before them.

The child’s anger disappeared, twisting into pure fear at the sight of Adam’s glowering presence. Her small hands detached from the woman’s face as she drew closer to the woman’s body for comfort.

“You’re okay,” chided the woman softly into the child’s hair. “He won’t hurt you.”

“He looks mean,” argued the girl, her wide eyes never turning from Adam’s scowl.

“He does,” agreed the woman, a hint of amusement in her own voice. “But know what else I see?”

With a raised finger, the woman pointed to Adam’s exposed arms.

“This man has a body like yours,” shared the woman tenderly. “See his arms? See his head? See his face? Some of his body is different, too, and that’s okay.”

She winked at Adam playfully. His scowl, though still very much present, weakened slightly at the unexpected act.

“Its time to go home,” the woman repeated, this time a firm tenor to her words. “You can choose to walk with me to the elevator or your parents can help you. You have a choice.”

Stare never leaving Adam, the child nodded her head and took the woman by the hand. As if leading her away from danger, the child pulled at the woman’s hand with a new urgency. The woman mouthed for Adam to wait in the room as she rejoined the others in the hall. The door closed behind them.

Mentally, Adam was already kicking himself over how easy it was for his focus to be deterred, let alone how he reacted to seeing her in person again. Why he decided to insert himself in the chaos with the child, he had no clue. Didn’t give a fuck about children. So long as they stayed the hell away from him, there would be no issue. But something disturbed him in seeing how the child grabbed her, how the woman contained the pain she felt in the child’s sudden hold on her face.

The woman’s words and how they were said weren’t lost on Adam either. Not one bit. How this woman was able to deescalate tense situations and how similar her dialogue with the child was to their own exchange in the lobby infuriated him.

Is that how she perceived him?

Like that of a child? 

“Sorry about that.”

Angry red eyes fell upon the woman as she closed the door behind her and began tip-toeing through the mess in the office. A small smile touched her full lips as she went to stand behind a metal desk. 

“Sometimes its hard to go,” she continued with a shrug. “And although I appreciate your desire to help, please don’t interfere next time.”

Adam scoffed.

“I’ll do what I want.”

Sensing his attitude, the woman’s smile flattened into a pressed line.

“Yeah, I know, Adam,” she returned. “I know that you’ll do whatever you want. Which is why I’m glad you decided to come back so we can go over how exactly this all will work out.”

“’Bout fucking time,” he groused.

To his surprise, the woman scoffed and shook her head.

Adam immediately crossed the room to stand over her. He savored how far she had to crane her head up to meet his eyes.

“Something I say amuse you?” he challenged darkly.

What he expected was her instant submission.

What he expected was her to avert her eyes like everyone else, to deny she did anything or apologize altogether, and to wait for his next command.

What he didn’t expect was what came next.

“Yes, actually,” she stated, not even hesitating to pay back his hard stare with one of her own. “Yes, I find it amusing that you’re so inconvenienced by your own stubbornness and are trying to blame me for it. You had the choice to cooperate with our policy and chose to strangle my colleague because we held up our expectation, then you have the nerve to come into my workplace, my office, demand for an appointment, and then proceed to complain because of the stalling that you yourself created. Does this normally work for you? This whole standing-over-me-tough-guy routine? Because I can do this all damn day. I really can. Know why? Because I do do this all damn day, but last I checked we both are pretty busy adults and I’d like to not have my time wasted by your outdated ways of handling things. Or is this some kind of foreplay to you?”

Oh.

Oh, where was he to begin with that?

It took every ounce of patience and self-control to not pick her up and shove her against a wall. No one spoke to him like that. No one questioned him the way she did, whether there was some truth to her words or not. Fortunately for her, she was named as a person of importance to Arasaka. Fortunately for her, there were still many questions that she held the answers to, her value in that light being the only reason she still breathed and was alive to argue with him. 

“Who,” he began, his voice low and tightly controlled. “The fuck are you?”

A smile, one that hinted at some little victory, he figured, one that somehow made Adam even angrier, pulled at her lips.

“Bothered you, didn’t it?” she said. “Thought it would. You’re not used to waiting-”

“Answer me-”

“I’m Lumen,” she answered. “Dr. Lumen Furi.”

Not bothering to wait for his reply, the woman stepped away from the desk and began tidying up the office. Adam watched as she began making small piles of all the trash and debris, his anger still very much pulsing through his body. Anger from how she was talking to him, how she dared to tease him and make smartass comments in response to his voiced frustration. That anger was there, true, but more so was Adam upset with himself for how he allowed it and how learning her actual name brought some relief.

“The contract,” began the woman. “Is one that I don’t really like.”

“What is it?”

A sigh. 

Her face wore a look of disdain as she turned to speak to the merc.

“I’m conducting research on cyberpsychosis and crisis intervention,” she said. “I want to know if mental health crises are related to cyberpsychosis and even though I think it is, its 2070 and people still think that it’s just a hardware problem. They’re not looking at it seriously, at least not from a mental health standpoint, so I need hard data to prove my theory. And that’s where you come in.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Myself, Dr. Estrada, and some of the other researchers will be working with law enforcement and a Trauma Team convoy to provide crisis support to different neighborhoods in Night City. As you can imagine, it can be pretty risky work and we’re sorta ‘ride alongs’. Trauma Team has enough on their plate and covering our asses isn’t something they need to be concerned about. Arasaka is already backing our research, so-”

“Why?”

She shrugged.

“I guess they want in on the medical market? Not entirely sure. Don’t really care. What I do know is that they offered your services to aid in our groundwork.”

“In security.”

“Yep.”

“For how long?”

“Three months, once or twice a week, depending on the city region and time of day. Starting next week now that you decided to show up.”

His tempter bristled at the snarkiness in that last comment, but he decidedly shifted his focus to the contract instead. The jobs that he detested the most were that of security or protective services. He’d prefer that the only ass he cover was his own, and often the target was too slow, dumb, or fragile to make his job any easier. Although the woman appeared to be in good shape and proved her intelligence in their limited interactions, her ability to defend herself wasn’t clear, not yet. If anything, all she proved to him was that she enjoyed throwing herself in the middle of dangerous situations, a trait that wasn’t valuable to her new bodyguard.

“Fine.”

The word caused the woman to perk up. The sight entertained him.

“But I have limits,” he added. “Hard ones. And if you refuse to abide by them, you’ll either die or this contract is null.”

Her arms crossed, but she looked at him with expectation.

“Going to teach you some basic self-defense so you don’t get yourself killed. Until you do that with me then I won’t allow you to go into the field. Period. Next, I want to know what cyberware you do have and outfit you with defensive cyberware should anyone get too close.”

“Isn’t that your job?” she quipped. “To make sure no one gets ‘too close’?”

“Something tells me that you’ll fuck it all up and I’m not about to let you ruin this for me.”

He caught it. Small, but he saw that flash of rebellion, that grain of resistance, before she checked herself and pursed those lips shut.

“Last,” continued Adam. “You get a tracker.”

“Why-”

“Because I fucking said so. That’s why.”

The two stared at one another with enough intensity to start a fire. She didn’t balk at his stature, nor at how harshly his eyes took her in.

“Might I suggest a compromise?” she questioned.

“I don’t do compromises-”

“Humor me.”

When he didn’t argue, she resumed.

“If I have to have a babysitter, then I also would like a tracker for you.”

“What good-”

“Because I fucking said so.”

At that, Adam couldn’t help himself. He stomped towards her with enough force that she stepped back, pressing herself against the desk. His frame enveloped hers, all black camouflage and large arms caging her in on either side of her hips. Sitting on top of the desk, she gaped with wide eyes up at the furious mercenary, his face inches from hers as he towered over her body in muted rage.

“This is my job, my fucking ass on the line, and I’m not letting anyone, anybody, fuck up all the shit I had to do to get where I am,” he declared, voice shaking. “I don’t give a shit about who you think you are, I’m the one who says how this contract will go. Me!”

That’s it, he thought, his eyes unashamedly studying every curve and how that primal fear shattered that confident front of hers. 

That’s what he liked to see. 

The fear. 

The uncertainty. 

He got drunk on it, finally, the sight of her weakness, the proof that she was like everyone else. 

Standing so close to her body, Adam picked up on the deep notes of her perfume. He breathed deeply.

“Is this that ‘foreplay’ you were bitching about, Lumen?" he growled, a new lowness coating his voice. His body shifted to stand more directly between her knees, causing her legs to spread. “Is this what you wanted?”

No response came from her at first.

Nothing.

Nothing new for him to be challenged with. 

Nothing special.

But just as he felt that familiar burst of empowerment swell in his chest, the woman did something to instantly snuff it out.

Gently.

Kindly.

With a soft hand, the woman reached up and cupped Adam’s face. His own hand shot up to grip her wrist, a hard warning. It was ignored. Completely ignored as her thumb lightly stroked his cheekbone with an easy slowness. 

He swallowed. 

As his smirk fell as did the look of uncertainty from her own face. Golden eyes glittered with something warm, something that Adam couldn’t quite define. A raw energy hummed between them as she held him there, held him in a paradoxical space of peace and a primal urgency to do something more.

A small smile.

“I love your eyes,” her voice said in a near whisper. “Red. They fit you.”

Just as his mouth parted to reply, an incoming call crossed his HUD. Adam moved away from her and the desk as if her hand burned. Her smile remained as he answered the call, the client on the other end simply informing him that he was running behind and would be late to their scheduled appointment.

“I’ll see you next Wednesday,” stated that woman above the sound of the client’s words. “You can go.”

And that he did. Adam held his composure, but never has he left a client as quickly as he did that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love that the game developers allowed us to see Adam Smasher in 2023, that we get a glimpse of the transformation process into what he becomes in 2077. When I saw him in 2023, I wondered if his humanness extended past the physical traits and into his personality and approach to humanity as a whole as well.
> 
> What I like most about writing this story is that I can flesh out his character's growth. I can run with the idea that he wasn't just this cold, diabolical person since birth, but experienced things that shaped his world view and made him who he was in the main story. I like having characters interact with him pre-2077 body when he still resembles that of a human being, at least more so than his body in 2077.


End file.
